


Endgame

by Arlene0401



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, EreJeanWeek2k19, M/M, You Have Been Warned, short but immensely depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 14:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18412328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlene0401/pseuds/Arlene0401
Summary: At the end of it all, there is nothing but ashes and blood.





	Endgame

**Author's Note:**

> For erejeanweek 2019, day 7: canon universe

Smoke and ashes whirl around him, clog his nostrils and fill his lungs, acrid and bitter. Jean wipes the sweat from his brow, unaware of the tangled mess that his hair is. Splattered blood on his hand: Connie’s or Armin’s, he doesn’t know or remember.

At this point, it’s become irrelevant.

The dead faces of comrades and civilians, friend and foe fuse into a collage of destruction.

Ahead, a tiny figure emerges from the steaming carcass of his titan form. Battered and wounded, pathetically weak, and yet the most lethal thing in existence. Jean draws the pistol from his holster. Once upon a time, he had vowed to protect this man’s life at all costs.

***

_Year 850_

_“Eren?”_

_The sniffling stops immediately. Yet Jean knows that Eren is there, sitting rigid and breathing open-mouthed to avoid any noise. He knows because it’s what he would do. Treading carefully in the dark, Jean moves further until he has crossed the stable and is standing in the adjacent feed room. Here, the warm smell of horses gives way to the sweeter aroma of hay and oats._

_“Go away, I’m fine.”_

_Eren is not fine, his voice thick from crying. At least he won’t be starving here - the direction tells Jean that Eren is leaning against the crate full of apples. He sits down next to him._

_“Did Mikasa send you?”_

_“She doesn’t know you’re here.”_

_A pause, then Eren clears his nose in an unattractive series of snorts. Jean waits. He’s not exactly known as a good or empathetic listener, but he hopes that if he just stays, Eren might unload what’s been on his mind all day._

_And finally, he starts talking. How he’s good for nothing, a burden, a risk. A millstone around their neck. How it would be better for him to never have been born -_

_\- and this is where Jean has to interject. As much as he’d wholeheartedly agree that Eren Jaeger can be a phenomenal pain in the ass, Jean also believes that he is indeed humanity’s hope for freedom. Not only because of his titan abilities, but because of everything that he is._

_Being a 15 year old boy, Jean is not good at words of praise and feelings. But still Eren listens attentively, unused to hearing anything uplifting from him. When Jean is finished, there is an awkward silence, and he listens into it with a strangely thudding heart. Any time now Eren will open his mouth and say something dismissive, or stupid, and Jean will give a snarky reply, and they will be on familiar ground again. The longer Eren is quiet, the stupider Jean feels. He’s said too much, and being the bastard that he is Eren will…_

_“Do you really… see me that way?” It’s not said in a mocking or provoking tone, but meek and quiet and very, very vulnerable._

_What is Jean supposed to answer? He leans over in an attempt to kiss Eren, but his mouth only connects with a bony jaw, and they both giggle breathlessly in the dark until their lips finally meet. The kiss tastes of tears and apples and snot, and it’s the most perfect Jean will ever experience._

***

Using his maneuvering gear, he closes the distance in the blink of an eye, and suddenly Eren is not a faint figure obscured by smoke and dust. He’s a living, breathing human being. His friend. His lover. 

No. Jean grits his teeth. That is long in the past, forgotten and buried. It’s Eren the usurper, the traitor, the murderer. The maniac. Blood oozing from his mouth, breath a wet and foaming rattle in his chest. He’s dying, but with his inhumane healing abilities no one knows - he can be totally fine again the next moment. Jean needs to do this, and quick. There’s no one else left, all the other scouts dead or dying among the rubble around them.

He cocks the gun and swallows.

***

_Year 853_

_They work hard these days, the daily manual labour demanding even more of their bodies than the gruelling drills or combats during their fighting times. Jean likes to complain about “babysitting” Eren and building this railroad, but he has to admit there’s something deeply satisfying in watching their work slowly grow. After all the death and destruction they faced, it’s healing to use their hands to construct something useful._

_Eren, however, is restless. It was his idea with this stupid railway, but whatever he hoped to achieve - atonement of some sort or occupational therapy, or maybe something even more weird and twisted that only Eren could come up with - seems to be firmly out of his grasp. He drives the sledgehammer home as if it could magically fix all his problems. Jean watches and contemplates. He’s long since learned to read Eren’s moods and silences. When he trips over a crate of equipment, it’s just hard enough to send him sprawling on the ground and pretend to have a sprained ankle and blame it on a heat stroke. All he needs is to keep this idiot from working himself to an early grave for one day, and Armin’s knowing little smile tells him he did right._

_They all take a day off and ignore Eren’s morose lamentations of falling behind schedule. It’s a day of lazing in the shadow of a small grove of trees and bathing in the nearby lake._

_“You are very nimble on your feet for a man with a sprained ankle,” Eren declares with narrowed eyes as Jean comes back from a swim and shakes water droplets from his hair._

_“Must be something in the water,” Jean deadpans and unapologetically lies down with his head in Eren’s lap. Callused fingers thread through his wet hair._

_“Thank you.” It’s so quiet Jean could almost pretend he didn't hear it. “I guess we - I - needed a day off, huh?”_

_“Yeah, you were getting kind of intense and scary.” Jean blinks up to see Eren surrounded by a canopy of leaves, stray beams of sunlight filtering through like a halo. “Scarier than usual, I mean.”_

_“How can you read me so well? When Mikasa or Armin do it I get mad, but with you I’m…” Eren trails off, a thoughtful look on his face. Jean opens his mouth to answer, but the words die on his tongue. They stare at each other for a long moment, and something unspoken passes between them. Something warm and entirely too gentle and heavy for what they are. Jean is almost glad when the others come running from the shore, demanding snacks and a place in the shade._

***

As if roused by Jean’s presence, Eren opens his eyes, unfocused and fuzzy. Now, do it now, do it now! A voice in his mind screams, and Jean raises the pistol. His movement feels sluggish, way too slow. Other voices scream too, scream at him to kill the bastard, shoot him! Now! Quick! But Jean’s never been good at killing. His only weakness in the field is his reluctance to take a human’s life, however soiled with blood his hands are. It never gets easier. Even now, faced with their greatest opponent, the man with the power to destroy all Eldians.

Bright eyes focus on him. Cold, unyielding, inscrutable. Not Eren’s eyes, he has time to think, before something white explodes from Eren’s hand and pierces his abdomen.

Jean chokes, the pain more excruciating than anything he has ever known. Blood rises in his throat and dribbles from his mouth as he looks down at the spike protruding from his body. Ah yes, the Warhammer Titan’s abilities. His eyes trail the length of the spike to Eren’s arm and search his face, looking for a familiarity that isn’t there. Whatever they retrieved from Liberio, it wasn’t Eren but some doppelganger. Jean can’t fathom him anymore. Nobody can. And now Mikasa and Armin lie dead by their feet somewhere, Connie vanished in a cloud of gore that sprayed Jean with crimson. 

“It’s only you and me left, huh? Looks like… looks like I failed to kill you, after all.” Jean chuckles, more blood flows from his lips. It’s selfish and cowardly, but he’s glad that he didn’t end Eren’s life. He doesn’t know if he could have lived with this burden.

“... me,” Eren croaks. Jean stares at him blankly.

“Jean. Save… save me. Please, Jean.” 

He still stares at Eren like he’s a puzzle that needs solving. Then he understands. It’s Eren he’s looking at. The veil of - madness, possession? - has been lifted for a split second, and Eren is there, small and very frightened. 

Begging Jean to save him, like so many times before. That, Jean is used to. That, Jean can do. For Eren, he can. He can save him however many times he needs saving, from his demons, his past. From himself.

“Please, can you… for the last time… please, Jean.”

Jean nods, raising the pistol again as he feels his own pulse slow down with every ounce of blood that’s leaving his body.

“Yes, Eren. Thank you for saving me too.”


End file.
